Always, as a new relay surged forward, Nick by some insidious manoeuvre edged Angela and Kate nearer to the front.  At last he got them wedged behind the foremost row of travellers who were waiting to spring upon and overwhelm an approaching stage.  Those who had won the way to the front and achieved safety, unless defeated by an unexpected rear attack, wore an appearance of deceitful calm.  Two extremely big young men, who had the air of footballers in training, did what they could to form a hollow square round a couple of fragile but determined girls.  The party, while in reality bent upon securing the two best seats at any cost to life or limb, pretended to be looking at an illustrated newspaper.  This feint was intended to put others off their guard; and the four concealed their emotions by discussing the pictures on the uppermost page.

A name spoken by one of the girls was an electric shock for Angela.  In an instant the veranda, the crowd on it, and the stage whose turn would come next, vanished from before her eyes like a dissolving view.

“Prince di Sereno!  What a romantic name.  And say, isn’t he handsome?  I wonder if he’s as good-looking as that, really?”

“She’s handsome, too,” the other girl added.  “I do hope they won’t be killed.”

“Come along, kids—­look sharp!” said the two young men.  And before others who hoped to annex the box seat could breathe after an interlude of footballing, the conquering four secured what they wanted.  Those less fortunate were tumbling up as best they could; and Angela had scarcely time to realize that she had not dreamed the incident, when the stageload had bounced away.

She was left dazed, and blushing deeply, so deeply that Nick, quick to notice lights and shadows on her face, wondered what match had lit that rosy fire.

Angela’s first thought was that somehow she had been found out.  Then she remembered that the girls had seen the name in a newspaper.  Also they had been looking at Paolo’s picture.  And he could be handsome—­in a picture.  But of whom had they said, “She’s handsome, too?” Could it be that her own photograph had been published with Paolo’s?  If so, who had dared to reproduce it, and why?  What if Nick should come across the picture and recognize the face as hers?  She did not want him to know that she was the Princess di Sereno until, for her own reasons and in her own time, she should choose to tell him the story of her life.  Once she had thought there was no reason why he need ever know; that they would part, and she would remain in his memory as Angela May.  Now, however, she began to see that the moment must come when she would not only need, but wish, to tell him all, so that he might know why.  But she never quite finished this explanation in her mind.  It was too fond of trying to finish itself without waiting to be put into words.

She was a little frightened now, lest by chance there should be a premature revelation, for in the rush to get away the girls dropped the paper they had been reading.  It lay on the veranda steps, and though the cover was turned back, and only an advertisement page could be seen, Angela discovered that it was the Illustrated London News.